Chapter 112: Dad
My daughter was screaming - loud, terrified shrieks that sliced at my heart - and I had no idea why everyone pretended they didn't hear it.
Sunlight streamed through my office window in a long rectangle over the cracked tile floor, and beyond it, my secretary sat outside the open door. Between the clicks of her red-painted fingernails over the computer keyboard, she stared at her lap. Unless she caught the mouse in the office I didn't tell her about and was deciding what to name it while rubbing between its ears, she was likely texting. How many times had I told her to leave the texting for her breaks?
But not once did she glance up and ask, "Who is screaming?"
I gripped the edges of my desk so tight, white topped my knuckles. My insides shriveled with every cry into a trembling mess, and I thought I might be sick.